


And A Lion I Shall Stay

by LaurelSilver



Series: Victimised [31]
Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Gen, Roleplay, Waterboarding, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29079381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurelSilver/pseuds/LaurelSilver
Summary: "For I was born a Lion and a Lion I shall stay!"Johnny 3 Tears; Lion"Matty can't be a hamster!" Charlie cried, "Hamsters f-ck!"
Relationships: n/a
Series: Victimised [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/910587
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	And A Lion I Shall Stay

**Author's Note:**

> NAMES:  
> Lion (Victim): anyone you want it to be. The only requirements are that they have 4 limbs and lips. Call it catharsis. Gender doesn't matter, Lion/Victim is referred to as 'it'.  
> Viral Tiger (Charlie Scene): white tiger  
> P-Kitty (Jorel/J-Dog): black cat/blunt goth friend  
> Goldie (Danny): golden retriever/excitable blond friend  
> Kong (Dylan/Funny Man): gorilla/baritone cryptid stoner friend  
> Georgie 4 (Johnny 3): butterfly man, like Mothman but with butterfly wings/big 'motherfucker unlimited' friend  
> Kurly (Matty/Da Kurlzz): ram/tantrum-prone curly-haired friend
> 
> Just to be very clear;  
> 1\. I have not done, nor do I have any intention of doing, anything described in this fic. This fic is pure fiction.  
> 2\. I don't think the guys have done, or have any intention of doing, anything described in this fic.  
> 3\. I do not encourage or condone anything described in this fic. This fic is pure fic. Recreating this fic, or anything similar, is illegal and immoral and very fucked up.  
> 4\. You are not obliged to read, finish reading if you start, or comment/kudos if you finish. There is no story here. It just mindless violence for no real reason.  
> 5\. Victim/Lion having any similarities to anyone real or fictional is unintentional.

Lion kicked and thrashed in Viral Tiger’s grip. His claws dug deep until blood welled as he dragged Lion across the floor. P-Kitty ran over and took Lion by the legs, and the pair lifted Lion between them, ungraceful and bedraggled, the remainder of the way.

Halfway between the unmade bed and the torture chair, P-Kitty and Goldie had stacked up round weights in four little piles, each with a length of rope twisted through with an end left hanging loose. They plonked Lion down in the middle, straight on the tailbone.

Lion yelped and tried to scrabble upright. Kong kicked it in the knee and Viral Tiger shoved it back down. P-Kitty took it by the wrist and pulled it to lie down flat. A gently purr rolled in P-Kitty’s throat.

The concrete under Lion’s back was warm. Lion had sat and watched as the men had taken it in turns to lie on the ground, arms and legs spread as the rest had stacked the weights by his wrists and ankles. Several times they’d managed to distract themselves with pumping the irons, pushing each other to pump the heaviest of the weights, 5 kilos, for the most reps. Georgie 4 had won, not with the most reps but by lifting it above his head and pushing up for each rep. Viral Tiger and Kong declared Georgie 4 a “total fucking unit” and the “ultimate motherfucker unlimited”, proclaimed they love him and declared him the winner on the spot. Goldie had actually achieved the most reps, a sexy sixty-nine with trembling legs and tongue-lolling pants, but congratulated Georgie 4 on his clear win.

P-Kitty took the loose length of rope and wrapped it tight around Lion’s wrist. He looped the rope around itself and knotted it, then wrapped it around another weight to knot it again. He replaced the weight on the pile and pulled the pile straight over Lion’s wrist.

The weight dropped onto Lion’s limb one at a time, hard and heavy. The edge of one weight drove straight into Lion’s wrist and rolled up its paw, crushing skin and bone. Lion yelped and pulled. The weight held fast, Lion’s fingers flexing up around the weight.

One by one, the piles of weights were pushed over Lion’s ankles and wrists. It struggled, one leg managing to drag across the floor a couple of inches, to Kong’s holler of surprise, until the weights settled, two each side of the limb, leaning heavy. Lion flexed its foot and tried to push them away, only trapping a slither of skin between the weights and flinching away.

Lion strained. It could wriggle. It could pull one foot a couple of inches, the pile a little higher up than its brothers. It could lift and shake its head. And, of course, it could scream incoherently, teeth and tongue taken.

Goldie plonked himself down next to Lion and scratched at its belly. Lion flinched away from the touch but Goldie followed, paws rubbing in rapid circles, his tongue lapped out in joy. Lion wriggled and pulled. Goldie’s heavy paws scrubbed away at its stomach and he giggled.

Lion snapped at Goldie, head nowhere near, jaw aching with overpull. P-Kitty gave it a warning kick to the side and Lion yelped.

“He’s a meanie, ain’t he,” Goldie cooed, “Such a big meanie!”

Lion gave a long roar. Goldie giggled and kept up his tickling.

While Goldie sustained his tickling and cooing antics, Georgie 4 and Kong padded off to the kitchen. Lion had realised pretty quickly that Viral Tiger was “banned from the kitchen”, as he announced every time he was asked do something, including things not involving the kitchen. The rest were not banned, but only tended to use the fridge to keep beers, and occasionally a glass to put their beer in if they were feeling swanky. The only man who bothered with the stove and its food-making capabilities was Kurly, hooves clicking on the floor as he walked.

On the stove, on the back right burner, a medium size pot steamed away. The water inside had bubbled up to an angry white foam.

Kong reached for the pot and Georgie 4 smacked him with a dollar-store oven mitt. Georgie 4 took the pot and turned around, steam folding over the edge of the pot towards him as he walked, one foot in front of the other like a tightrope walker.

P-Kitty had to drag Goldie out of the way as Georgie 4 approached. Viral Tiger dragged the blanket off the bed and laid it over Lion.

“You look cold,” Viral Tiger said, patting Lion’s shoulders through the blanket. “Are you cold?”

Lion shook its head.

“You look cold,” Viral Tiger repeated.

Georgie 4 was steps away, eyes fixated on the pot. Viral Tiger seized the edge of the blanket and flung it over Lion’s head.

The fabric was itchy and over-washed, and smelt of sweat. Light and shadows filtered through pinprick holes in the orange. A large shadow loomed and shifted, and the blanket tightened as someone tucked it tighter around Lion’s head.

Lion smelt the water before it felt anything. It was a clean smell, like standing over a secluded spring or opening a window straight after heavy rainfall.

And then the pain hit. Just to the side of Lion’s mouth, hot and angry. It ran down Lion’s jaw, burning a path in its wake.

The water poured thicker, faster, heavier. Lion thrashed and shook its head, desperate to pull away from this heavy heat.

The blanket pulled on Lion’s skin. It sat, saturated, over Lion’s nose and mouth and stuck there, clinging fast. Lion gasped for air too waterlogged to come and swallowed steam.

* * *

“Do we need the puppets?” Matty asked.

Johnny 3 stopped pouring the water.

“Yes,” Charlie said, “It’s important.”

Johnny 3 continued pouring the water. The toilet roll sheet, symbolising the blanket, had already dissolved but Johnny 3 supposed that didn’t matter to Charlie. There was more toilet roll, they were hardly in a shortage.

* * *

Lion’s lungs screamed for air. It roared through the blanket as it stuck flush against its cheeks. The heat burrowed into Lion’s nose, ears and eyes as it thrashed and fought.

Muffled voices talked overhead. Pressure landed on Lion’s forehead and pushed hard.

Lion howled. It kicked, and a paw had to press over its knee as one pile of weight shifted.

The weight on its forehead moved down its face, scraping down over its nose.

* * *

“Okay, seriously?” Matty interrupted again.

Johnny 3 stopped again, his finger on the lion doll’s nose. Dylan stopped his impression of Victim’s screaming.

“What?” Charlie said.

“You can’t just tell me these things with words?”

“No.”

* * *

The weight clamped over Lion’s mouth and squeezed. Water dribbled out of the blanket to sink into Lion’s flesh, forcing through the layers of hair and skin, nesting deep.

* * *

“You realise how ridiculous this is, don’t you?”

Johnny 3 stopped a-fucking-gain, grip so tight on the doll’s head that its limbs were uncurling from under its fridge-magnet shackles. “Yes.”

With a nod from Johnny 3, Dylan continued screaming.

* * *

Lion’s roar died to a whimper. The heat and the blanket still clung but there was no air left to scream with.

Black speckled on the edges of orange and Lion let it. It tried to relax, tried to let the end come.

* * *

“You really are embellishing this, huh?”

“Would you shut up?!” Charlie whined, and threw the ‘Kurly doll’ at Matty.

* * *

The blanket shifted. It lifted. Light filled Lion’s vision, bright and welcoming.

The warehouse settled back into focus. Five curious faces hovered over Lion.

Lion took a deep breath and roared, long, loud and alive.

* * *

The warehouse was silent.

Matty looked up from the ‘Kurly doll’, really a steel wool ball with a sawed-off doll face superglued to the side, and cast a glance over the gathering. Victim sat between Danny and Jorel, Danny stroking a hand up and down its side, Jorel with his arm slung over the back of the sofa. Victim’s face was a deep red and peeling, blood welling from multiple cracks. Its eyebrows, eyelashes and a good three inches of hairline had singed away. A dense black mark sat over Victim’s mouth where its lips should be, a shape which Matty could now identify as the imprint of Johnny 3’s hand.

The lion doll lay on the oven tray in the puddle of water. Johnny 3 and Matty had talked Charlie out of heating more water for the demonstration, but he’d still insisted they’d needed water.

“Am I allowed to speak now?” Matty said.

“Only if you can do it without being an asshole,” Dylan said.

“So; no,” Jorel reiterated.

Charlie chuckled. Viral Tiger lay on the coffee table in front of him, surveying the reconstructed torture in front of him through eschew sunglasses.

“Okay first of all, the fuck is this?” Matty pointed to the ‘Kurly doll’.

“It matches your hair,” Charlie said.

Matty looked from the ‘Kurly doll’ to Charlie and back again multiple times, mouth opening and closing as his brain fought between the phrases “What the fuck, Charlie?” and “Charlie, what the fuck?”

“I couldn’t think of an animal for you,” Charlie said.

“What kind of animal’s a cannibal?” Danny said.

“Hamsters?” Dylan offered.

“No! Matty can’t be a hamster!” Charlie cried, “Hamsters fuck!”

Jorel and Johnny 3 erupted with laughter. Matty glared them both down.

“Okay, whatever,” Matty tossed the ‘Kurly doll’ onto the table. The superglue on one side of its face gave up and the face flapped up as it bounced. “Why was I not invited to this?”

“Because fuck you, that’s why,” Jorel said.

Danny and Dylan, both about to speak, closed their mouths and nodded in agreement.

Matty stared at the blanket, sat on the coffee table next to the oven tray. Curls of skin clung to the fabric, dried in the midday Cali heat and likely to start smelling soon. Matty could make out the face shape; the holes for eyes, the two tighter curls from each side of the nose, the larger panels of the cheek and forehead. The large lump of Johnny 3’s handprint, pulling up the entire lips.

“You could have let it cool longer,” Matty said, “Peeled more of the skin up.”

“Nah, it was suffocating,” Jorel said, “We’d have had a dead body already, it’s only been a week.”

“And it’s more fun to peel the face off somebody who’s alive,” Danny said, big smile on his face.

“Course it is,” Matty said, nodding, “How much water was there?”

“Fuck, we didn’t use a jug!” Charlie said, “Fucking seriously? You sit there bitching about the story and then ask ‘how much water’ what the fuck, man?”

“This pot full,” Johnny 3 pulled the pot out from under the table.

“That pot there?” Matty said.

Johnny 3 stared at Matty for several seconds, “This pot here.”

“Interesting.”

“It was actually boiling too.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

Matty and Johnny 3 stared at each other and nodded. Dylan stared at them with a deep frown. Danny snuggled into Victim’s side and poked its cheek. Victim hissed at the stinging flare, but barely reacted. It hurt to move. It hurt to try to cry, tear ducts burnt shut. It hurt to blink, it hurt not to blink.

Charlie leant down and nuzzled his face into Viral Tiger’s back. Viral Tiger’s were damp from the splashback of Lion’s waterboarding.

* * *

Far away in space, time and dimensions, Viral Tiger picked up his doll. It’s a rag doll of a human, the primitive cousin to apes. Viral Tiger had never been interested in them until he found this funny little rag doll dressed in black, buried between the cushions of the fly-tipped sofa he’d helped P-Kitty collect. He seemed well loved, his clothes removable with a real button and fly on his jeans and a piece of string in the hoodie of his jacket. In his pocket he’d had a pair of sunglasses, miraculously intact, and a black bandana embroidered with the name “Charlie Scene” in white.

Viral Tiger kissed his Charlie Scene gently on the forehead and sat him on the arm of the torture chair, watching over Lion.

Viral Tiger sometimes wondered who Charlie Scene could have been. Maybe someone’s pet. Maybe a children’s book character, although Viral Tiger thought he looked a little too yobbish to be a wholesome children’s character. Maybe he was a character someone invented, maybe as a stage act.

That was probably Viral Tiger’s favourite theory. A stage act, a rockstar, singing to huge crowds, playing a guitar that’s covered in stickers, cracking jokes between songs. Viral Tiger likes to think of him as a guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously, not crazy costumes or elaborate stages, just Charlie Scene being genuinely passionate about performing. Maybe even with his friends, with a blunt goth friend and an excitable blond friend and a baritone cryptid stoner friend and a big ‘motherfucker unlimited’ friend and maybe even a tantrum-prone curly-haired friend.

Basically, Viral Tiger likes to think that somewhere, universes away, Charlie Scene is real. And Viral Tiger likes to think that they’d make for a good friend.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm never gonna top "Hamsters fuck!" That is the best Charlie dialogue I am ever gonna write.
> 
> This was based on a request, but I don't know if they wanted this gifting. I feel like this is a bit like mentioning furries in front of your grandma; you mention it casually, but now you have the mortifying ordeal of explaining furries to your grandma and having her ask why know about this.  
> Side note; I know furries aren't inherently sexual, this is just an example.
> 
> The front left burner on the stove is best, but when you have something waiting (e.g. water coming to the boil, pasta or rice cooking while you make the sauce) the back right burner is best for that. This isn't a science, I'm just right.  
> The blanket came from a charity shop/thrift store and probably hasn't been washed since it was brought to the warehouse. It's just old and worn-out.
> 
> Viral Tiger/Charlie is banned from the kitchen because he blew up the stove one time.  
> Matty and Johnny talking about the pot and it 'actually being boiling' refers to Matty holding Johnny captive and at one point pouring 'boiling' water down Johnny's chest, only to end up talking for so long that the water had cooled to the point it didn't do any lasting damage.
> 
> Give your plushies a hug! Or if you don't have a plushie, hug a pillow! Just squeeze it real hard, it's good for your serotonin.


End file.
